


Stigma(ta)

by bullpavus (talksmaths)



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:38:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talksmaths/pseuds/bullpavus
Summary: Before the Inquisition, before the Kirkwall Chantry exploded, two young elves had a quiet life together--until their clans separated, one sold himself into slavery, and the other found himself in the wrong place at the right time.





	1. Chapter 1

"The eyes of the young are drawn to the stars, and the spirit of youth is seldom earth-bound."

\--Radclyffe Hall,  _The Well of Loneliness_


	2. Chapter 2

It was the dead of night and Tamro was vaguely aware of the summer breeze that covered the two elves. They lay on a blanket under a poorly-made tent, waiting for dawn to continue their search. In the futile attempt to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, Tamro had rolled over onto his side, facing Leto, who was out. He could always fall asleep in a manner of moments as if he hadn’t slept for days before finally finding a place to relax. Tamro envied him for it.

Exhaustion took him well under way after he closed his eyes, so much so that when he did wake up again, no tired eyes or groggy body clued him into how long he had slept.

He was more focused on the taste of Leto’s lips on his.

Leto stopped only for a moment so he could sit up. As if by string, Tamro sat up, unable to let his lips be separate. Leto took Tamro’s hand and pulled Tamro into his lap, settling Tamro’s hips on his lap. Leto pulled Tamro’s mouth back to his own, kissing softly. He slid a hand beneath Tamro’s loose shirt and ran his fingertips along the knobs of Tamro’s spine.

Tamro was far from complaining, but he was confused.

“Why are--you--doing this?” Tamro asked between Leto’s fast, short kisses.

Leto pulled his head back to look into Tamro’s eyes. Tamro could feel the very blackest foundation beneath the green grip onto his lumbar.

“I want to know what you look like when you come.”

Tamro felt his face burn. He could only register it for a moment before Leto grabbed his face and began kissing him again, this time swiping his tongue into Tamro’s mouth. Tamro moaned, unable to stop himself. He could feel Leto smirk against his mouth.

“I want to kiss every inch of your skin,” Leto whispered, sliding Tamro’s shirt off him before his own. Tamro placed a hand on Leto’s shoulder, the skin thick with a pattern of scars and muscles. Leto caught Tamro’s neck with one bite, making Tamro arch his back and hiss in a breath. Leto dug his nails into Tamro’s waist, letting Tamro roll his hips against his lap.

“I want to fuck you until you come apart.” Leto kissed and sucked at the bite mark. Tamro dug his nails into Leto’s shoulders, back straight and tense. He could feel the blush in his cheeks only get hotter as Leto’s fingers trailed down his hips.

“Is that okay?” Leto breathed against Tamro’s skin.

Tamro managed to squeak out a whiny “y-yeah” from his tight chest, quickly-rising chest.

Leto smirked and gently pushed Tamro onto his back, now taking his turn to straddle the other. Leto palmed Tamro’s dick through his loose pants until Tamro was arching into his hand, desperate for more. Leto shucked off his own pants before slowly removing Tamro’s. He watched Tamro carefully, looking for any indication of hesitancy.

He didn’t know that Tamro had wanted this for so, so long.

Leto rested Tamro’s legs on his shoulders. He went to wet his fingers in his own mouth, then decided to set one, then two, then three in Tamro’s mouth. Tamro sucked diligently, tonguing between and around them, licking in slow motions and letting his eyes fall closed. He heard Leto whisper  _ fuck  _ before he removed his fingers. He placed his hand on Tamro’s thigh, trailing down toward his ass.

“If you want me to stop,” Leto whispered, “tell me.”

Tamro nodded, desperate for Leto to start. He watched as Leto’s long, black hair obscured his eyes as he moved, studying him like a tiger through blades of grass. Leto put Tamro’s legs over his shoulders, then leaning in to kiss Tamro, so desperate and sloppy it made Tamro’s stomach ache from knotting. When Leto pulled away, they were both panting.

Suddenly, Leto lightly hit Tamro’s shin with his fist--then, again, harder, sitting back on his heels. When he did it a third time, Tamro closed his eyes, opened them again, and found Leto’s foot against his shin. Tamro felt his clothes against him, damp from sweat. Leto’s eyes were closed, brows furrowed. He was dead asleep.

Tamro took in a deep breath and sighed, turning over to avoid being kicked in the shin again. He ignored his hardon and focused on the sound outside the tent of the bugs humming and branches snapping, a whole separate world moving on without them.

  
  


\------------------------------

  
  


Tamro is awakened by the warm, full bath of midday sunlight on his face, and he sits up in a dizzying panic. Leto hadn’t woken him up at dawn as he usually did, and Leto was gone.

Stumbling out of the tent, squinting against the bright summer sun, Tamro brushed his unruly bangs from his face, wincing as his fingers caught knots. He began by going up the hill they had put the tent near to block the wind. Atop it, Tamro held his breath. Leto was sitting in the bottom of the ravine, crouching amongst wiry vines and ribbons of leaves. Something blue-white was stumbling toward Leto’s outstretched hand.

Tamro lay down, hiding behind the thick grass, looking from beside a tree. Once the creature took more than three steps, Tamro knew what it was: a baby halla. He had never seen one before. No one in their clan had. That’s why he and Leto were here: to figure out why the halla weren’t by the clan like they used to be, why they began mating far away and not trusting the elves until they were all well into adulthood. Once, the elders said, halla used to trust the elves with their babies as if they were both the same creature. Generations later, however, they hadn’t been seen this close to an elf.

Tamro wondered if Leto fully realized how important this moment was.

As the halla slowly, slowly, awkwardly, on unbent knees and knobby not-antlers, made it way toward Leto, it eventually leaned into him, resting on his lap once Leto sat cross-legged. Leto pet it gently with one hand, rubbing along its back, head, and chest until it trusted him enough to unfurl, exposing its soft underside. As it did this, Leto reached for something behind him, on his person.

Tamro held his breath as Leto expertly and cleanly slit the baby’s throat. Tamro did not hear it make a sound. When Leto had replaced his weapon, he gently set the baby on the ground, placing it in a small hole in the ground and covering it. Once it was buried, Tamro felt he could finally interrupt, as if the baby’s unseeing eyes would stop him. He slid down the steep ravine, stepping quickly over exposed roots and broken bows left behind by their people.

Before Tamro could say anything, Leto did first.

“Something was wrong,” he said, voice buoyant with a mysterious sadness. “The mother abandoned the baby. She was starving and weak. I tried to reintroduce them, but the mother rejected her.” Leto wiped small streaks of blood across his pants. Tamro felt his chest tighten.

“She was either going to die a slow, painful death,” Leto explained, sensing Tamro’s disgust, “or I was going to put her out of her misery.”

Tamro nodded. He stared at the grave. If he hadn’t seen Leto dig it, he would never have guessed what was beneath the dirt.

Leto began the climb back up the ravine, back to the tent. After a few moments alone, Tamro followed. The silence at the bottom of the ravine threatened to pull him back under.

  
  


 

 


End file.
